13 Lines

OK, so here I am out. Out on a limb.

I cruised by this writer's website last night and, if you join this forum, you can post the first 13 lines of whatever you're working on to see if you can interest anyone into reading the rest of the piece. I was tempted to do it except that what I'm working on (new prologue to novel #1) isn't finished.

However, my exhibitionist tendancies are getting the better of me... So here it is: the first 13 lines of my novel.

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Lars let his boots make plenty of noise as he strode down the stone paved hallway. He was a large man, taller by a head than most and built like the trunk of a main mast tree, so there was plenty of bulk to put thunder into every step. The sounds echoed, bouncing to the end of the hall and back again off the grey stone walls of Keep Talistor.

Probably, the noise wouldn’t make any difference. Probably, Fenn was too high from smoking magweed to hear anything of the living world. Probably, the clamor of a whole heard of bailaks charging down the hall wouldn’t be loud enough to wake him from his pipe dreams.

But Lars let his boots clomp and stomp anyway. If he didn’t, it meant he’d given up hope and he couldn’t do that. Not yet. They had one more chance and he meant to make Fenn take it.

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Any takers?